I Told My Amnesiac Master He Was My Husband - Chapter 1

No one knew how heaven’s most brilliant and unblemished prodigy had fallen to demonic corruption.

They only knew that, on that day, bloody light stained half the sky and screams rang out like the shrieks of damned souls in the eighteenth hell. Blood poured from the mountain gate, rushing down all thirty thousand stone steps with unstoppable force.

In the space of a single day, Golden Cloud Mountain suffered countless casualties. Esteemed elders of the cultivation world died alongside promising young disciples. To stop the disaster from spreading, the other sects joined forces against him. The slaughter became known as the Calamity of Golden Cloud Mountain.

Tens of thousands attacked Shen Dao alone. The battle raged for seventeen days before his strength finally failed and he plunged from a cliff.

Everyone thought he was dead. They cheered the destruction of the murderous demon who had brought them so much suffering.

What none of them knew was that I had found him.

I had gone down the mountain to travel, only to return and find the cultivation world turned upside down. Everyone called Immortal Venerable Shen Dao a vicious criminal who deserved to be hacked to pieces even in death.

I was the only one who refused to believe them.

He must have had his reasons.

But that no longer mattered.

What mattered was that after the battle, my wounded master had lost his memory.

For three taels of silver, I bought a crude cottage from the villagers. It came with a modest yard, and once I had cleaned everything, the place felt almost cozy.

I gave Master the only bed in the house.

After seventeen days of fighting, his body was a ruin of blood and wounds. Blood had dried nearly black over his costly immortal silk robes, obscuring their original moon-white color. I could not even tell how much of it was his.

He lay unconscious for a month, and I tended him for every day of it.

Applying medicine meant undressing him.

Master slept peacefully on the bed, his exquisitely carved face so beautiful it blurred the line between man and woman. He was a sleeping beauty served up to make anyone’s mouth water.

Heat flooded my face. I swallowed hard, then tied a strip of cloth over my eyes.

“Forgive me, Master.”

If I could not see anything, surely it did not count as defiling him.

Unfortunately, blindfolding myself meant I could not see his wounds either. I had to feel my way across his body, searching for them one by one.

Master looked slender, but beneath his loose robes his body was firm and evenly muscled. Everything that ought to be soft was soft. Everything that ought to be hard was hard.

My heart pounded beneath my fingertips.

Something warm trickled beneath my nose. When I wiped it away, my fingers came back bloody.

I hurriedly covered Master and pressed a handkerchief to my nose, drowning in shame.

Lusting after my own master—how utterly depraved of me.

A rustle sounded behind me. I turned to find him struggling upright on the bed, long hair spilling loose over his shoulders, his clothes half open and his face deathly pale.

His cool, impassive eyes fixed on me.

“Master? You’re finally awake!”

He gave no sign of recognition. His long lashes lowered.

Then, after a moment, he asked, “Who are you?”